Home

I could go back to sleep, open my NYT app, or take a walk. I’m trying to read less news, and I wasn’t sure I’d be able to fall back asleep. So I leashed Padre up and downloaded this podcast, which turned out to be the best 20 minutes of my week so far.

Michael Meade says,

When things get really rough, there’s an acceleration of calling. Calling is that thing that is secretly trying to awaken each one of us to what we came to life to do…There are only two philosophies about the human soul. Either it’s empty and it gets filled with what happens around you or it’s seated, aimed, and purposeful…The calling is calling to the thing that’s hidden in the soul. I call it the genius. This means “The spirit that’s already there.” We came here to give our gifts, and it becomes more important to do so when the world has gone wrong.

Calling isn’t what we do for a living. Michael is not talking about seeing a career counselor to change jobs (though do that if you’re stagnant or under-utilized). He’s not talking about taking Srengthsfinders or going to a conference for mamapreneurs (though do that if it enlivens your soul).

He’s talking about “calling to the thing that’s hidden in the soul…the spirit that’s already there.” Bill Plotkin says our psychological suffering comes from noble souls that know they haven’t reached their full potential. There is something in us that knows we’re meant for more—something calling out to us, sometimes barely discernible, reminding us that we’re connected to the stars and the earth, that the spark of the Divine hasn’t gone out.

There are strong forces that keep us from dropping into our True Selves—old stories, fear of losing the things that we think make us who we are, the siren calls of power, materialism, image. But, Meade says, we can’t afford to forget who we really are—“We came here to give our gifts, and it becomes more important to do so when the world has gone wrong.”

What’s heartening to me lately is that there are so many wise guides if we say “yes” to the acceleration of our calling. You don’t have to go the library and ask to see something on microfiche. You don’t have to pay $5000 to go on a yoga retreat or go on a raw vegan diet. If you begin with willingness, there are clues everywhere.

Because I get so caught up in my Little Self, I need reminders of my calling. These come in the form of spirituality books, time in nature, Tarot and oracle decks, prayer books, poetry, silence, candles, plants, service, solo time away from home, spiritual friendship, exercise, eating healthy food, and a severe limiting of notifications on my electronic devices. A few things that have accelerated my calling lately:

P.S. Photo from Easter Sunrise service on the shores of Lake Whatcom with my church. Though I continue to struggle with my place in a community of faith, I’m frequently enfolded into love anyway, despite all my misgivings or boredom or resistance. It’s good to be together.

Got home last night from a retreat with Mirabai Starr at Turtle Haven, and it’s going to take me awhile to get over it. In the best way.

I’ve been around enough authors and teachers in my life to be a little bit wary going into these kinds of things. Some people know how to transmit love and wisdom on the page, but they’re not great at it IRL. (“In real life,” for those of you without teenagers.) Some people can pontificate about living with integrity and joy, but they don’t embody it. I’m at a point in my life where I don’t have much patience for that. I want the real deal—I want the “suchness” and “thingness,” I want the incarnation, not just the incantation.

Mirabai led us there, into the arms of the Divine Mother, into the dancing circle of the Mystery. She gave us the freedom to “come out as interspiritual,” and it turns out that’s what I’ve been dying and trying to do for the last 10 years. The metaphor I’ve been operating from for a long time goes something like this: If we need water to stay alive, wouldn’t it make sense that there are drinking fountains, streams, aquifers, everywhere? Why would a loving Creator design things in such a way that a seeker needed to cover several continents or centuries in order to get a cup of cool water? If God is Love (which I fervently believe and experience), wouldn’t She pour out her love, indiscriminately, through and over every religious tradition? Through and over every non-religious person and space, free for the taking or leaving? Yes, and yes.

I’m devouring Mirabai’s new book Wild Mercy, and I recommend it for all my fellow seekers. At the end of our retreat, as we shared our closing reflections, I said, “I feel like every pore in my body is open, soaking up love.”

We had some writing prompts throughout the weekend, and it was actually the first time I’d written a poem in a long, long time. I’ve been a little clogged, and it turns out that someone giving me something to go on and a quiet 10 minutes is all I needed for the juice to start flowing again. Here’s the poem I wrote from the prompt, “Write to the great mother.”

This sacred, monthly ritual consists of taking up a table at Camber for at least two hours, talking about everything but writing, and then making rushed, earnest promises to one another in the last five minutes about all the writing we are going to do before we’re together again.

We usually begin by talking about favorite pens and journals. In case you’re pining for the details, my favorite pen is the PaperMate InkJoy gel, and hers is the Office Max version of the flair pen. And we’re both using (cheap) bullet journals in a much sloppier way than the Instagram feeds we follow. And she turned me onto using big post-its for my to-do list in the front of my journal. After 44 years of life, it’s satisfying to figure some of these things out.

I promised to start blogging again, and here I am! Yet another example of how writing group is actually working even though we are (blessedly) not hardcore about it. The two of us are hardcore about plenty of things—being present to our children, working hard at our jobs, trying to deepen our marriages and eat less french fries. It’s nice to drop into this gracious space with one another.

Writing here again underlines a core conviction of mine: We are meant to be creators, not just consumers! I’ve had so many clients in my office lately who are drowning in notifications, buried under banal input, trying to hear themselves again. We all need some kind of place to make something.

I’ve adopted Emily’s instructions to herself. When she feels anxious, lonely, or out-of-sorts, she reminds herself of three “M’s”: Make, Move, Meditate. These have been really helpful to me lately. The “make” might be starting dinner prep or pinching dead leaves off a houseplant. The “move” might be vacuuming or one minute of stretching. The “meditate” might be one 9-second breath, reminding me to be in my body. They all serve to keep me from energetically “scrolling,” mindlessly ingesting what other people are saying or passively watching what’s going on around me. More than ever, the world needs us to be present to ourselves so we can be present to the world.

I am prone to an all-or-nothing orientation when it comes to writing, moving my body, or praying and meditating. If I can’t completely knock it out of the park, I just don’t start. This little blog entry today lets me begin again, lets me treat this day and this moment like the practice it is.